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This poem takes inspiration from Elizabeth Bishop’s “In The Waiting Room” a copy of which can be read here.

 

I did not sit in a dentist’s office,

struck by the potent arbitrary presence of humanity,

but rather I laid in bed,

cozy in a Strawberry Fields room.

Seven years old, I stared into my white ceiling,

contemplating the darkness of death,

the possibility

of not existing at all.